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You of All People …

Recent weeks have pounded home the point that I’m seriously lacking in patience. With Duncan’s issues. With Erin’s workload. And more.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjto02iDNZA&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Four words repeatedly ring in my head: “You of all people.”

I of all people should be patient with Duncan. I was a problem child on a much deeper, darker magnitude than him. He’s a good boy. I should be a lot calmer when he has his meltdowns and gets uncooperative. Because I’ve been in his shoes. And yet I’m not patient with him at all.

Erin put up with a lot of grief when I was slowly melting down and needed to find treatment. She has stuck by me through the long, brutal years of therapy, religious conversion, addictive behavior and now she’s having to deal with me at the other extreme — throwing myself into insane levels of activity simply because I can now.

Yet I get impatient over her workload. Starting a freelance business from nothing is hard and sometimes crushing. I’m proud of what she’s accomplished. But the business is like a newborn child, in constant need of attention. Sometimes — more than sometimes, actually — I get jealous of the newborn.

I forget that at one point everything I did revolved around the needs of my job. She stuck it out through all the 12-hour night shifts that left me more than useless during the day. And that was with a toddler and newborn in the house.

She was patient as wave after wave of depression washed away my libido and made me a dark, brooding presence you had to walk past very carefully.

For the most part, I’ve since gotten my shit together, and now it’s time to be patient for them.

But I’m failing to do so. A lot.

You of all people.

I lost my temper with Duncan more than once this past week. We don’t hit our kids, but when we yell, we really yell. When I do, I feel terrible afterward, like the ultimate failure of a father.

When Erin has to focus in on her work or she’s too tired at the end of a long day for anything other than TV, I start to think like an ass (she doesn’t want to be with me. She no longer finds me attractive, etc.). I forget that she stuck with me for years as I failed to meet her needs. And when that point is driven home to me, I feel like the ultimate failure of a husband.

I know I’m not a failure on either of these counts, but when you let anger and uncertainty take over, you start thinking in absolutes. That’s always a bad idea.

So patience is clearly something I need to work on.

Maybe it’s no accident that my therapist asked me when I’ll start doing yoga during my appointment yesterday. I keep telling him I have no patience for yoga.

I’m starting to see the absurdity of my response, even though — truth be told — as I write this I still have no interest in yoga.

However I get there, massive amounts of patience will be required.

I should know how to muster the patience. 

You of all people.

But for whatever reason, I’m not there yet.

But after recent events, finding it has become a big priority.

Wish me luck.

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Side-Effects of Prozac

A friend asked if I’ve ever experienced any side-effects from the Prozac I take to help manage OCD.

An excellent question. Fear of side-effects kept me from trying the medication for years. Unfortunately, I did a lot of suffering in those years that could have been avoided.

I had heard all kinds of horror stories about side-effects: Weight gain, violent mood swings, acne. That stuff does happen, but it didn’t happen to me.

I have experienced bad mood swings right after dosage adjustments, but it doesn’t last long.

I’ve also learned that if the capsules leak and the medicine gets into your throat in the raw, the result is brutal heartburn.

Other than that, no lasting trouble.

That’s just my experience, of course, and the key to making this work is a multi-pronged attack on the mental illness with therapy, developing coping skills, etc.

The medication works wonders, but it doesn’t keep the mood swings and sometimes depressed feelings from developing. But in my opinion, it’s not supposed to do that.

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Coffee With My Therapist, Part 2

I paid another visit to my therapist this morning, and the discussion was a lot more productive than last week’s get-together. Last week wasn’t his fault. I went in there with a migraine.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Lz6qLQ4xSM&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

We’re continuing to work on my struggle to balance the urge to do everything with the need to slow it down. We’re working on my need for more patience as Erin and I help Duncan with his issues. We covered all the bases.

I must be feeling better than last week, because I walked in with a large cup of coffee. He wants me off the coffee and I know it. I drink it during our meetings partly to needle him and mostly because an hour sitting on a couch is a good time to sip some caffeine.

He asked me — for the thousandth time — when I’m going to start doing yoga.

“Never,” I said. “I have absolutely no patience for yoga.”

“Just like you didn’t have the patience to stop binge eating, right?” he shot back with a grin.

It’s all good.

I bring all this up as a reminder to those who fear therapy that there’s nothing to worry about.

I don’t think people should be embarrassed about seeing a therapist. And yet people are embarrassed, like they’re being treated for the clap after a reckless night in a whorehouse. It’s the kind of shame that does you no good. Take it from a guy who has been there.

It’s a funny thing when I talk to people suffering from depression, addictionand other troubles of the mind. Folks seem more comfortable about the idea of pills than in seeing a therapist. After all, they’re just crazy “shrinks” in white coats  obsessed with how your childhood nightmares compromised your adult sex life, right?

I’ve been to many therapists in my life. I was sent to one at Children’s Hospital in Boston as a kid to talk through the emotions of being sick with Chron’s Disease all the time. That same therapist also tried to help me and my siblings process the bitter aftermath of our parents’ divorce in 1980.

As a teenager, I went to another therapist to discuss my brother’s death and my difficulty in getting along with my stepmother (a wonderful, wonderful woman who I love dearly, by the way. But as a kid I didn’t get along with her).

That guy was a piece of work. He had a thick French accent and wanted to know if I found my stepmother attractive. From the moment he asked that question, I was done with him, and spent the rest of the appointment being belligerent.

That put me off going to a therapist for a long time. I started going to one again in 2004, when I found I could no longer function in society without untangling the barbed wire in my head. But I hesitated for a couple years before pressing on.

The therapist I started going to specialized in dealing with disturbed children and teenagers. That was perfect, because in a lot of ways I was still a troubled kid.

She never told me what to do, never told me how I’m supposed to interpret my disorder against my past. She asked a lot of questions and had me do the work of sorting it out. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what a good therapist does. They ask questions to get your brain churning, dredging up experiences that sat at the back of the mind like mud on the ocean floor. That’s how you begin to deal with how you got to the point of dysfunction.

She moved to Florida a year in and I started going to a fellow who worked from his house. I would explain my binge eating habits to him, specifically how I would down $30 worth of McDonald’s between work and home.

“You should stock your car with healthy foods like fruit, so if you’re hungry you can eat those things instead,” he told me.

That was the end of that. He didn’t get it. When an addict craves the junk, the healthy food around you doesn’t stand a chance. The compulsion is specifically toward eating the junk. He should have understood. He didn’t. Game over, dumb ass.

The therapist I see now is a God-send. He was the first therapist to help me understand the science behind mental illness and the way an inbalance in brain chemistry can mess with your thought traffic. He also provided me with quite an education on how anti-depressants work. Yes, friends, there’s a science to it. Certain drugs are designed to shore up the brain chemicals that, when depleted, lead to bi-polar behavior. Other meds are specifically geared toward anxiety control. In my case, I needed the drug that best addressed obsessive-compulsive behavior. For me, that meant Prozac. 

But I don’t necessarily heed his every suggestion. Take the yoga and coffee, for example.

He makes recommendations but I decide what I’m going to do.

Fortunately for me, I’ve gotten smart enough to take most of his advice.

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For Cousin Martha

Cousin Martha — Erin’s cousin on the Robinson side, specifically — is way up on my list of favorite relatives. I love her humor, her wit and her ability to absorb all the needling I direct her way.

The kids love her spiky hair, and to prove it they spiked up their hair after a bath one night and ran around yelling, “Look! I’m Cousin Martha!”

I got a kick out of that before noticing the kids were doing this without clothes on.

Martha has been going through a rough patch of late. She recently had some major surgery and has felt less than stellar for some time.

So I wanted to dash off this post to let her know we’re all pulling for her.

She’s been through some serious shit in her day. She’s dealt with addiction and family tragedy as I have. And instead of being crushed by the weight of it all, she developed a spine of steel. Whenever she stares adversity in the face, she comes back stronger than before.

So it will be this time.

Good thing, too, because I miss her cooking.

We love you, Martha.

Keep fighting.

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Raising Sane Kids In An Insane World

Yesterday I was asked about tips for dealing with children who have OCD. Neither of mine have it (not officially, anyway), but our experiences with Duncan are leading us to some pretty all-purpose action items.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoGWe9l-OG8&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

As I’ve said before, my kids will be in a much better position to deal with mental ticks than I was, because I have coping skills to teach them that my parents didn’t have.

First, a few facts: Some of my quirks were definitely passed down to me from my parents. The OCD comes straight from my mother, and the emotional wall I sometimes put up to deal with it comes from my father. That binge eating would become the root of my addictive behavior should surprise no one. It runs deep in the roots of the Brenner family tree.

I see signs of my defects in Sean and Duncan every day.

Sean has more than a few OCD characteristics. When the boy gets into something, be it a computer game or Legos — especially Legos — he goes in deep and lets the activity consume him. In other words, he approaches these things compulsively.

Duncan, like me, gets a bit crazy when the daylight recedes. His mood will swing all over the place and he has the most trouble in school during winter time. To help remedy this, Erin bought me and Duncan happy lamps— essentially sunshine in a box. Despite the skepticism Duncan and I shared over it, the things actually work — to a point.

Having Duncan evaluated has been a real eye opener, and that’s the first thing I’d suggest if you think your child might have OCD. Our pediatrician, who specializes in behavioral issues, had me, Erin and Duncan’s teacher fill out an extensive questionnaire, then had me and Erin come in to go over his conclusions.

We didn’t walk away with a diagnosis, because at 7 Duncan’s still a bit young for an accurate assessment. But the doctor did send us a detailed, 20-point action plan.

Yesterday, we met with Duncan’s teacher and the school principal to go over them. One thing we’ve set in motion is some occupational therapy to help Duncan with his fine motor skills, which are currently underdeveloped. This will be huge, because Duncan having a better grasp on the pencil will allow him to express himself a lot better, which will help him be sane.

We’ve decided against medication at this point, because while Duncan shows all the signs of ADHD, he could also have other things going on, like OCD or bipolar. The drugs for ADHD work well if that’s what you have. But if you have something else that simply looks like ADHD, medication can actually make things worse.

Meanwhile, the pediatrician suggested Duncan see a therapist, so we’ll be doing that.

So with all that said, here’s my advice for dealing with kids who might have OCD:

–Get ’em evaluated ASAP, and be prepared to fill out some extensive paperwork.

–Once the evaluation is complete, set up a meeting with the teacher and principal to carve out a game plan. 

–Be patient, which is something I admittedly need to work on.

–Just keep loving your kid, and have faith.

Mental disorders are not a prison sentence. Help is always available, and your children can still grow up to do great things.

That’s what I’m learning, anyway.

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Why The Hell Does He Do That?

My friends and family will tell you I have an arsenal of odd quirks. There’s the windmill hands. There’s the pacing, a trait my oldest son has inherited. Then there’s the fidgeting problem.

Mood music (R.I.P. Mike Starr):

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9jX1KAKp78&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Ah, yes. I fidget a lot.

That’s why I tend to work with my feet up on the desk. It keeps me still. When I sit like a normal person my legs start to bounce up and down as if I had a couple bass drum pedals strapped on.

The feet on the desk started with a crippling back problem several years ago. I found that was the only way I could get comfortable. The back pain is long gone, but I still can’t seem to sit normally. In work meetings it would obviously be rude of me to put my feet on the table, so I sit with the feet on the ground.

Twenty minutes into the average meeting, I’m in hell. I have to hold back the overwhelming urge to tap my feet or tap the table with my fingers. If a meeting lasts more than an hour, sitting there starts to get physically painful.

I can never sit at the kitchen table for long, either. I tend to eat fast and then get up and do other things. Duncan has a similar problem.

In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I live with it well enough, and nobody hassles me over it.

But next time you walk by my desk and wonder why I’m sitting the way I do, that’s why.

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Sympathy for the Unsympathetic

I tend to get a lot of mail from people who read this blog, particularly the stuff about the rougher parts of my life. God Bless ’em, because they’re good people who want to buck me up. But I think they misunderstand where I’m coming from sometimes.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvJGQ_piwI0&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

There are days when my posts cross over to darker territory, especially when a wave of depression or OCD moment hits. I also do a lot of soul searching here, which is part of what I started this for. Some see those posts and tell me I’m way too hard on myself.

When too much of this happens, I need to come on here and tell you why you don’t need to worry about me or express sympathy. This time, I got a nice, shiny five-point manifesto to make my point:

1.) If I write about something bad that happened to me or something I’m feeling bad about, it’s never, ever a cry for pity. I approach my experiences from the point of view that EVERYONE has bad stuff happen to them and that EVERYONE screws up. I’m nobody special. But many times I need to expose my raw feelings to make a point. That’s what writers do.

2.) This blog is all about me making an example of myself. The way I see it, I’ve learned a lot of lessons and developed a lot of coping skills every time I’ve failed. If I don’t admit to my own failings to show where I used to be and where I’m going, the reader won’t walk away with anything useful.

3.) When sharing a bad mood or experience, the goal is to tell others they’re not alone. A lot of people with depression and addiction suffer in silence, thinking they’re different from everyone else in a bad way. The more people come clean about their own struggles, the more those sufferers can see that they’re not so hopeless and strange after all. In other words, some of the stuff readers try to buck me up over are based on my attempts to buck other people up.

4.) Never think for a moment that I don’t love who I am and what I have. It’s easy to read the darker posts and see a guy who loathes himself and curses his lot in life. But these posts aren’t meant to be that way. I still have my struggles and always need to be better than I am, but I also appreciate who I am, where I’ve been and what I’ve learned. And I know when I look at my wife and children that I’m THE luckiest guy on the planet.

5.) Writing all this stuff down is excellent therapy for me, too. Some people may be taken aback by some of the stuff I come clean about here. But in doing so I clear my own mind of the obsessive thinking that can hold me back. Then I can move on to the next thing. That doesn’t mean I don’t get locked into OCD moments, but spilling it here makes things better. 

So you see, my friends, there’s no need for sympathy. I’m doing just fine.

But I am grateful for your kindness and good intentions.

Now, as MC5 once sang, “Kick out the jams!”

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New Website for “Machine Man”

The producers of “Machine Man,” a film about a man battling OCD, have relaunched their website, which includes an excellent forum where people can share art, writing and music that reflects their personal experiences.

Tonight I had the honor of speaking to Kellie Madison, the writer, director and producer of the film. She had sent me a message with her phone number, asking me to call. She urged me to sign up for the forum, and I just did. Exciting stuff.

Kellie is funding this film in a grassroots manner to keep the content free of the typical Hollywood bullshit treatment. The more she can raise from people like us, the sooner the film will come out.

So if you can, help her out. We’re all financially strapped, including me. It’s a bad time to ask people to give to a cause. But I ask anyway, because I want to do my part.

Here’s a press release describing the film and Kellie’s approach:

Veteran Female filmmaker Kellie Madison tackles obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) with narrative feature film; Kicks off never-been-done-before grassroots campaign to raise awareness and funding

For Immediate Release

FEMALE FILMMAKER TACKLES OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD) WITH NARRATIVE FEATURE FILM

Writer / Producer / Director Kellie Madison Kicks Off Never-Been-Done-Before Grassroots Campaign to Raise Awareness and Funding

(HOLLYWOOD, CA) – Donald Trump. Howie Mandel. Howard Stern. Each of these men is among the most influential public figures of the world. Yet, most wouldn’t imagine that these powerful people all share a common mental disorder. They, along with millions of others around the globe, suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), a neurobiological anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts (obsessions) and a need to perform repetitive and ritualistic behaviors (compulsions). One in 50 adults currently battle with obsessive and compulsive behavior. One in 25 has dealt with the disorder at some point in their lives.

Just as “Rain Main” brought worldwide awareness to autism and “Children of a Lesser God” eloquently dramatized the trials and tribulations of the hearing impaired, Kellie Madison brings us a narrative film that illuminates the debilitating struggle that millions of people who suffer from OCD go through on a daily basis. “Machine Man,” chronicles the spirited tale of an average man, who struggles with an extraordinary problem, facing his most debilitating fear in order to save the woman he loves.

Far too often, people with OCD suffer in silence because of the shame and stigma associated with this disorder.  Some don’t even recognize what they’re suffering from and are terrified to leave their homes.

To date, a film that addresses the daily debilitating fears associated with OCD has yet to be produced. Film is one of themost powerful mediums for conveying messages to audiences around the world. A feature like “Machine Man” can and will create empathy and awareness for those suffering with OCD. This will ultimately affect change by helping people recognize their disorder and subsequently seek proper treatment.

It takes more than a great script and great talent to get a film off the ground.  It takes funding.  Madison is using her passion for the project to attempt a filming feat no Producer has yet to achieve: raising the entire $2,000,000 budget of the film through philanthropic support from the local community. We need YOUR help in spreading the word.  This grassroots campaign is a unique, ambitious and worthwhile endeavor.  Depending on the level of support, all participants will be rewarded, including the opportunity for a role in the film.  Additionally, partial proceeds will go to the International OCD Foundation.

Kellie Madison, as well as experts from around the country are on board and available for interviews. We would appreciate your help and the opportunity to spread the word about this amazing project.

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Tension Mounts, On With The Body Count

My editing background noise this afternoon is the first album from Body Count, the metal band with Ice-T on vocals. Some of it is uncomfortable to listen to. But, truth be told, I absolutely adored this album back in 1992.

Mood music:

Listening to it now, I shake my head at the liberal use of the N-word. I hate that word. But because an African American was singing it, the 22-year-old me thought it was ok; that the hateful nature of the word was somehow neutralized because it came from Ice-T’s mouth.

Back then I thought it was a big joke. In my drunken moments I would play the most violent songs on the album (“Cop Killer” and “There Goes the Neighborhood”) and cackle myself blue. My friends joined in. They weren’t bigots, either. They were just caught up in the nonsense, too.

But looking back, it was more than a childish joke. On a couple different levels.

First, there were real racial tensions in 1991 and 1992. It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years since a bystander recorded the police beating of Rodney King. In the spring of 1992, a jury let the officers off the hook and L.A. erupted into vicious rioting. That was scary stuff. Some people suggested a race war was at hand. The 1960s were probably much more dangerous in that regard, but for my generation that was the worst we had seen in our adult lives.

Second, my attraction to that album  illustrates what an angry person I was back then. I was just getting started with the band Skeptic Slang and all the lyrics I was writing were tirades against my lot in life.

I had yet to understand that life was never meant to be fair, and that there’s no such thing as happily ever after. I learned these things, eventually, thankfully,

My thinking back then was immature and depressed. If this album helped me through it and kept me sane so I could make it out the other end, so be it.

It’s a snapshot in time.

Nothing more, nothing less.

imgres

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12 Steps: The Ultimate Swiss Army Knife

Last night’s AA Big Book study group meeting really drove home that this program is like a Swiss Army Knife that’ll cut through any number of things that hold us back.

As you know by now, I use the 12-Step program to maintain my sobriety and abstinence in the face of a devastating binge-eating disorder. But it’s done so much more than help me manage addictive behavior. It has brought me closer to God and sharpened all the skills I had to learn to manage the OCD.

It has also made me much more aware that I’m too attached to technology, and that if  I’m not careful that will consume me as well.

Here’s the beauty of these step-study meetings and the Big Book as a whole: The focus is on that hole in your soul that pushes you toward any number of bad behaviors:

–Gambling

–Pornography (See The Priest Who Failed)

–Pedophilia (See The Pedophile, parts 1, 2 and 3)

Just to name a few.

I never name names or go too far into detail on what is said at these meetings, because anonymity is critical for a lot of people. But I can get into it if I keep it general and leave names out, so here goes:

The main speaker last night was a woman who is recovering from both alcoholism and a sex addiction. She talked mostly about the sex thing because that’s something we covered in the Big Book first.

She described sex as something she used to escape reality. Love had nothing to do with it, just like my binge eating never had anything to do with being hungry. It was the action that mattered, the effort to fill the empty feeling with something. For me it was food and, to a smaller extent, alcohol. To someone else it’s heroin or sex.

This woman now has to abstain from sex. To some people that might seem harsh. But for those of us who have a more old-fashioned idea of how sex fits into the fabric of things, it makes much more sense. When you do anything to excess long enough three possible outcomes are in store for you:

–You’ll smack head-on into an illness that will eaither kill you or force you to make big changes in how you live.

–If you’re lucky, you’ll simply stop getting that contented feeling the action used to give you. When the high no longer comes, it means you’ve done it so much that there’s no longer enough of it to feed your angry soul.

–You will have hurt so many people with your actions the choice will come down to being alone or making some serious amends.

Whichever of these things happens, when a person hits the bottom of the trash can and they’re still lucky enough to be breathing, they need some sort of structure — a map — to help them pick up the pieces.

The 12 Steps won’t work for everyone. I don’t believe in all-purpose silver bullets.

But from my personal experience, I’ve found that this program is about as close as I’ll ever get to the silver bullet.